Lost Chances
by Cursed Detective
Summary: Sometimes, the chance is lost. (Heavily implied male in love with male.) Part 2 in the 'Chances' 'verse.
1. 1 To Not Deny

_Not Mine, except for storyline. Part of a trilogy and thus intended to be read in order._

 ** _1  
To Not Deny_**

"No, no, no, no, no," Kuroba Kaito didn't even realize the low chant escaping him as he pressed rhythmically down on the chest of someone who had become an intrinsic part of his world. In full night-work uniform, he was anything _but_ Kid's usual calm, suave self.

Because Tantei-kun had changed, screaming and growing and maybe become the self he'd been fighting to get back to, but had gone still ( _too_ still, not _breathing-!_ ) and Kaito had shoved back panicked grief in an attempt to _save-_

He didn't know how long he'd been doing CPR. His arms were shaking with exhaustion, his breath short and heavy, lips forming denials that he wasn't even aware of.

He'd known his tiny Tantei-kun wasn't Edogawa Conan, known who he was and what he was fighting, known also that the detective-in-hiding had come to see their little face-offs at heists as a reprieve from his daily life. Known they worked well together, having faced down far more dangerous criminals as a unit and, somewhere along the line, he'd started to look forward to his encounters with Tantei-kun.

Heists were more fun when he was there, more challenging, and Kaito had to _think_ and _react_ when the Taskforce (or even Hakuba) only had him having to _act._ That anticipation, that 'look, a challenge!' feeling had only grown stronger with each face-off, and after a while, seeing sharp blue eyes half-shrouded by flat glass had started to send a thrill of happiness ( _elation_ ) through him every time he saw them.

He knew Kudo Shinichi had Mouri Ran, and if chases in moonlight and moments of terror against people who would happily kill them were all he would be granted, he would (he _had_ ) gladly take them. He'd be the reprieve from all the horror, the one who gave Tantei-kun something that made him think without making him think of blood and death and _grief._

Mouri Ran's would one day be the shoulder to support, and he could, _would_ , accept that.

Because Tantei-kun wasn't a jewel to be stolen. He was so much more precious than that, and Kaito wanted to see him _happy._

But this—this was the terror of every nightmare he'd ever had multiplied and made real. This was horror that was sinking into his bones, his _soul_ , and he _wasn't going to give up._

But his arms were giving out and Shinichi was dead under his hands, body limp and far too still, and the monocle fell from his eye to clatter on the floor, weighted by tears he hadn't realized he was shedding.

His arms caved and he collapsed forward across Shinichi's chest with a choked sob, shaking, and he _couldn't_...

"Please, _please,_ don't do this, Tantei-kun," he managed through grief like an ocean abyss, cracking into his soul as dark and heavy and _cold_ as the deepest waters.

But Tantei-kun didn't respond, body lax and still warm from the fever-heat that had burned and _taken_ as Kaito struggled to gather him into his own arms, and Kaito couldn't steal from Izanami* no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't trade, either, though he would have; would have done anything, _given_ anything, traded his life and his father's legacy, if only it would give Shinichi a chance at the life he should have had—

—but that was it, wasn't it? Shinichi had come to him, waited and lowered his own chance of survival, just because he wanted to tell Kid 'thank you'. But Kaito _wasn't_ Kid, not really, he was only a shadow of his father's memory and right then he wasn't even that. And Shinichi had died in his arms, died _screaming_ , and-and-and the door that he hadn't remembered to lock through choking fear on seeing the pill Tantei-kun had been carrying (careless, meaningless now, because he didn't _care_ if he got caught, not anymore) opened behind him, slow footsteps (two sets, one that of a strangely light-footed child and the other—the other barely heard at all) making their way closer before stopping.

A voice, resigned and heavy, a voice he knew as that of Tantei-kun's mini-scientist friend, and he couldn't bring himself to care that she and whoever had come with her saw him so broken. What did _reputation_ matter, with Shinichi lying dead in his arms?

Frantic, grief-shattered confusion shifted through him, and he didn't look up, _couldn't_ , because he couldn't bear to see the truth of Shinichi's death reflected back again in other eyes.

The truth. The one thing Shinichi had always so staunchly stood by, even when having to live a lie, never lying to _himself._ Kaito hated it, _hated_ it with a fury and passion greater than he'd ever hated _anything,_ that truth. But Shinichi's very name wouldn't let him hide from it, deny it, and there was only grief and hollow, aching, _hateful_ rage.

Not at Haibara Ai, who had done all she could, but at the ones who had started this, the shadowy group that had forced poison down his Tantei-kun's throat years before.

Whether they were the same people who had killed his father or not, he would not rest until they _paid._ Tantei-kun's Crows would find that doves were not so helpless as they seemed.

But—why had Tantei-kun come to _him?_

 _xxxx_

 _*Izanami was a goddess of creation originally, but ended up as a permanent resident of the underworld after dying and eating food cooked there. The full story is more complicated, including her husband and a few others, but the gist of it is she became a vengeful hell-goddess._


	2. 2 To Have Loved and Lost

.

 ** _2  
To Have Loved and Lost_**

Haibara Ai realized less than forty minutes after the heist had started that Kudo had done as she'd feared; had gone with no intention of returning. The pill was not where she had left it, which meant…

Heart in her throat, she went to get the spare glasses and turned them on, zooming out the map as much as she could. The signal from Kudo's pair was moving, _quickly_ , and she could only pray they were still on him and hadn't just been planted on Kaitou Kid.

Then again, Kid would probably have noticed.

She couldn't ask Agasa to go with her. The chance of Kudo being—it was too high, and the grandfatherly professor wouldn't be able to hold it together long enough to come up with a cover story and then arrange to match.

That left… Okiya Subaru. He would—he knew of her involvement, and she was pretty sure that Kudo had explained to him what had been going on earlier that very day, knowing he might die and that 'Conan' was going to disappear.

He… as much as he terrified her, Okiya knew how to shove feelings aside until it was safe to deal with them and he'd helped them more times than she wanted to admit.

She _wanted_ to believe Kudo was all right, was going to _be_ all right, but she knew the odds. Kudo was probably not going to make it. If he did, she had an earful for him, but she had the sinking feeling that by the time she got to him, it would be too late to deliver.

She had to _try._

 _Please._

She pounded on the Kudo mansion's door until a somewhat worried-looking Okiya showed up, only mildly so until he saw who it was.

"Haibara-chan?" his expression went from concern to alarm. (He had to know he scared her.)

 _"_ _Please,"_ she choked out, stumbling over the explanation as quickly as she could manage.

"I'll get the car," he stated, sharp and too-calm. "If you have anything you might need, get it now."

 _xxxx_

Too late, of _course_ too late, and Haibara was distantly aware of the man beside her stilling for a moment, a soft breath escaping him before he took control of himself, but it was—it being too late for Kudo was… was a lot of things, but not surprising. What _was_ surprising was that Kaitou Kid was folded over him, cradling him in trembling arms, tear-wet monocle unheeded on the ground, hat tossed aside, sobbing almost silently.

Perhaps there really _had_ been more there than Haibara had understood, because she had never imagined she would see that thief so vulnerable.

She had seen the faint tensing of his shoulders when the door had opened, but that tension was gone and he hadn't even looked up. He didn't care anymore, it seemed, and that…

"Kudo," she murmured quietly, resigned. "Kid-san, we need…" she trailed off. He wasn't listening, or at least not acknowledging.

After a few more moments, he raised his head, and it was like looking into Kudo's face, the resemblance actually shocking. She'd known they had to look similar, had known Kuroba Kaito and Kudo Shinichi were eerily alike, but the cheery grins in the pictures she'd seen and Kid's usual mischief-laced smirk had made it easy to tell them apart. Now, it was only that his hair was mussed, with his expression so pained that it was like seeing Kudo with a broken heart.

"Haibara-san… why would he—he didn't even know my _name._ "

That… "Of course he knew, Kuroba-san." He'd told her some time ago, after she'd irritably asked why he trusted the thief. "Your father was his godfather, after all. He just wanted you to tell him yourself before he let you know."

Azure eyes squeezed shut, "I… I _can't…_ "

"Kuroba-san," Haibara _forced_ herself to stay calm, because she needed to honor Kudo's last wish and she couldn't do that if she let herself acknowledge her grief. "… no one can know about Edogawa Conan being Kudo-kun. Will you help us? Kudo-kun wanted… wanted them safe."

A long moment passed, and Kuroba slid up a metaphorical mask, clearly shunting away his feelings only for the sake of following Kudo's wishes even though the tears didn't quite stop. "What do you have planned?"

 _xxxx_

An abandoned warehouse with very poor cell reception and a cover story later, and Kaito (not looking anything like Kid, anymore) called Nakamori-keibu. Haibara and Okiya had set it up to look like a child hostage had been held and taken away, set the scene as best they could (terrifyingly well) and hacked both Shinichi and Kaito's phones, leaving a coded message with the timestamp set for an hour after the heist while Kaito's tears dampened Shinichi's shirt (they'd changed him into his own clothes, leaving the torn jacket Conan had actually worn that day and not-yet-washed laundry that had been left at Agasa's in place along with his usual 'toys', though they'd swapped the watch-face with one of the ones for the other children and the shoes had been swapped with the old unmodified pair) and attempted outgoing calls timestamped through the hours that had passed.

Conan had been seen in the heist building, though Kaito was sure his leaving had not been caught on tape.

He only had to act a little, voice breaking as much as the phone connection as he told his best friend's father where he was and that there had been a murder and it was _Shinichi_ and he didn't know what to do.

The evidence of CPR would be obvious as soon as the autopsy came through, but who knew what else would show up. (Later, bloodwork showed traces of a rapidly degrading, unknown compound and inflammation around his nerves had them decide it was a torture drug. When Kaito saw that, he bitterly thought that it was close enough.)

When the police got there, it was several familiar (often around Tantei-kun, that was) officers and Nakamori-keibu. Megure, Sato, Takagi, forensics and useless, _useless_ paramedics.

Kaito couldn't stop _crying._

Megure closed his eyes, expression twisting in grief, and Kaito was glad when the man gestured Nakamori forward, even though this wasn't in Division Two's range of crimes to investigate.

His best friend's father, the man who had half-raised him knelt next to him, obviously worried, and Nakamori glanced at Shinichi's face only to blanch and look back at Kaito with frantic eyes. "Kaito? What happened?"

"He—I got a text, and I came as fast as I could, but he was burning up with fever and he said he was _dying_ and, and—his little cousin, they had his little cousin, so he'd come looking, but they gave him something and told him to take it with a gun to Conan-kun's head and, and… they were gone by the time I got here. I'm not like Shinichi, I can't track from nothing, and he told me as much as he could but he—he started screaming and seizing and I couldn't… I _tried,_ and I… _Shinichi_..." his voice broke again, "I couldn't save him." Kaito folded forward again, wrapping more around the limp, slowly cooling body in his arms, " _I couldn't save him._ "

"Keibu-san?" one of the forensic officers asked quietly, "How long?"

"Kaito, you need to let go of him," Nakamori reached out to ease Shinichi from his arms, and he tightened his grip for a moment before letting go with a strangled sob, curling in on himself.

"What about Conan-kun?" Kaito whispered. "I couldn't—but Shinichi would want… want…"

"Keibu," Sato's voice, off to the side, grim and worried. She was holding Conan's clothes.

"Set up a search," Megure ordered, terse and strained. "They killed Shinichi-kun and they have Conan-kun. I want them _found_."

 _xxxx_

"May I take Kaito home?"

Megure looked at the boy who looked so much like Shinichi still sitting on the cold floor, covered in dirt and shaking, eyes bloodshot and face streaked with tears that were somehow still falling even though he was _visibly_ dehydrated.

"It might be best if you took him to a hospital," Megure murmured back.

Nakamori followed his gaze and nodded, moving to urge the boy to his feet. "Kaito?"

Eyes as blue as Shinichi's had been, dulled by grief, looked up at the very worried person crouching down in front of him. "I never even—I should have told him," he choked out, a broken little smile crossing his face, "I should have… but I always thought… Ran-san, and… I just wanted him to be _happy_."

Megure blinked, and it only took a moment to unravel the statement, and he could see it click into place for Nakamori as well. That was not a selfish teenage crush, or a passing fancy. That was… if the boy had been so willing to give up his own happiness that Shinichi might have it, then…

He was so _young_ , for that kind of heartbreak.

And with Shinichi having died trying to save _Conan-kun_ …

… all this was, was tragedy.

 _xxxx_


	3. 3 To Rage

_More bad language than I usually use this chapter, but it seems the sort of circumstance to bring about that sort of thing._

 ** _3  
To Rage_**

Hakuba Sagaru frowned, glanced at his watch, mentally noted and dismissed the time (because knowing that it was twelve-point-three-eight minutes before first period was all well and good, but it wasn't _relevant_ ), and looked back at one Kuroba Kaito, sitting quietly in his seat and staring out the window.

Which conveniently hid his expression, what with the light pouring in from outside negating any reflections. Still, he wasn't showing his usual 'morning after a heist' behavior. He wasn't smugly cackling over the news, he wasn't bouncing around annoying people and getting chased by a semi-proficient aikido user with an interestingly household-cleaning-object shaped weapon, and he wasn't pranking or grinning or even gloating at Hakuba himself.

But nothing had gone wrong at the heist. No one had been hurt, no one had come close to catching Kid—not even Edogawa Conan, who had shown up looking rather ill. Which actually explained why he hadn't joined (led) the chase, but instead had wandered off after a few minutes of watching, rubbing at his forehead and seeming somewhat nauseous.

So, why was Kuroba being so quiet? It was extremely out-of-character.

Of course, Nakamori Aoko noticed that as well, stomping over to Kuroba's desk and snapping his name.

Kuroba didn't even twitch.

"Kaito! _Bakaito!_ "

As the dreaded mop was still in the back corner of the classroom, her immediate choice of weapon against the person ignoring her was her notebook, which came down on Kuroba's head with a loud 'smack'.

He didn't flinch, though he did slowly turn his head to look at her, and Hakuba sucked in a breath, unheard over Aoko's much louder gasp. Kuroba's eyes—that hadn't been _ignoring,_ that had been a genuine lack of awareness. Kuroba's expression was blankly empty, eyes looking like shadows and grief instead of pranks and laughter, and somehow Hakuba could _see_ that brief raising from whatever darkness consumed his thoughts was already being drowned.

"Kaito?" Aoko's voice was suddenly a lot softer, the notebook dropping to her side as she reached out her free hand, worry in her stance.

Kuroba turned his gaze back to the window with no further response, not seeming to notice when Aoko touched his shoulder. "Kaito? What happened?"

Kuroba didn't look at her, only shook his head silently, shoulders hunching as he curled in on himself, just a little.

Okay. _Now_ Hakuba was worried enough to admit it.

The classroom door opened, three of the other girls coming in, chatting excitedly about something in the paper, and Hakuba caught a name he knew. _Kudo Shinichi._ The so-called Heisei Holmes.

He switched his attention to them just in time to hear Momoi Keiko say "I heard he was kind of a bastard, but-"

" _Shut up!_ "

Hakuba jolted and the few in the classroom froze, all attention swinging to Kuroba, on his feet with his chair clattering to the floor behind him and a furious glare locked on Momoi, eyes blazing with something that had the British detective flinching back.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Shinichi like that," he snarled, _snarled_ , at the girl. "He died _screaming_ because some fucking bastard handed him a _torture drug_ with a gun to his cousin's head, and I didn't get there until _too late._ "

Hakuba choked while Aoko made a weak sound of horror, and suddenly Kuroba's behavior made a sickening sense.

Kuroba wasn't finished, though, eyes like liquid nitrogen, cold enough to burn, to freeze even steel. "I swear, when I find the bastards that murdered him, they're going to _wish_ I'd killed them by the time they get to the police."

Momoi went as pale as Hakuba felt. His mind was making connections—Kuroba knew Kudo, it seemed, well enough for a given-name, no-suffix basis (why had he never said so?) and had been there when he died. Was furious to the point of terrifying danger, but… what cousin? (He didn't realize the last had been aloud until he got an answer.)

"Conan-kun," Kuroba closed his eyes, rage crumpling into grief. "They took Conan-kun, and I… I'm not Shinichi, I'm not _like_ Shinichi, I can't—I can't just know from a glance where they went, and he was trying to tell me what happened, and I couldn't _leave_ him like that, not—" a deep shudder, and his voice broke, "—not _Shinichi._ "

Hakuba straightened, alarmed, "Edogawa-kun?"

Kuroba bowed his head and shakily picked up his book-bag, which he hadn't even bothered to open. "I'm going home."

Hakuba could only watch numbly as he left. Edogawa Conan wasn't exactly a normal child, but somehow Kuroba didn't seem as concerned with Edogawa's kidnapping as Kudo's death. That seemed… Kuroba _valued_ life, so it didn't make sense. Not unless…

Kid clearly cared about the Edogawa boy, so Kuroba not seeming very concerned with him in danger… well, either Kuroba really _wasn't_ Kid or Kudo's death had broken something in him so far that he couldn't see past it. But… if Kudo died for Edogawa, Kid wouldn't let that go. He didn't think Kuroba would, either, unless he knew something he wasn't telling, and the only thing that would make him less concerned with finding the boy would be if he knew beyond doubt that Edogawa was dead, too.

Hakuba slid his books back into his bag and stood, hoping desperately that the second suspicion was wrong. "I'm going to the station. It would probably be best if the last five minutes did not make their way around the school. This is not a situation to gossip about."

Several subdued agreements rippled around the room and Hakuba nodded shortly, walking out to make good on his statement.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba made his way to Nakamori-keibu's office, and he frowned as he realized the look on the man's face.

"Hakuba-kun," Nakamori greeted tiredly, lacking the usual irritation. "What is it?"

"… Kuroba said something this morning that has me… _concerned._ "

"Ah," Nakamori rubbed his face, sighing. "Megure's group is in charge of the kidnapping and murder, but… Gods, I've never…"

"What happened? Is there anything I can do?"

Nakamori shook his head, "Kudo managed to get a text out to Kaito, probably right after the… _people_ who took Edogawa-kun left him there. Kaito said he got there within twenty minutes, and Kudo was already in bad shape. The cell reception there is almost nonexistent; it's a miracle that Kaito even got the text. Kaito's phone had 119 attempts showing up for over half an hour before about forty minutes of nothing and then my number, over and over until he got through three hours after the first unconnected call."

"He was…"

"Kudo literally died in his arms, and Kaito tried to—there's evidence of CPR, and Kaito must have kept trying until he collapsed. Then… he was still holding Kudo when we got there, still crying. I took him to the hospital and he was so dehydrated they IV'd him for the rest of the night. He seemed to be on autopilot when I got him home this morning; I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he went to school on habit."

Hakuba swallowed. "He… grew very angry when Momoi-san said something about Kudo being a bastard."

"Kudo… came off as arrogant sometimes, yes, but… he was a good kid. And he was always right. _Always._ So it wasn't really _arrogance_ , and… Kaito loved him. Add in last night…"

"… loved?" the implication was not lost on Hakuba, and suddenly he knew why Kuroba had never wanted to go out with just Aoko on anything that might be date-like.

"I'm… worried," Nakamori admitted, and that much had already been obvious, considering the man had willingly told a teenage civilian consultant so much, most of it of a personal instead of professional nature. "I've never seen Kaito so… _broken_. Not even after his father died."

"You don't think…" _suicide,_ Hakuba didn't want to say.

Nakamori shook his head, less in denial than helplessness. "I don't think he would _purposefully_ do anything, but…"

Distraction and carelessness were dangerous with some of the things Kuroba made a habit of doing. Right.

Hakuba nodded, "I'll try to keep an eye on him."

 _xxxx_


	4. 4 To Dream

.

 ** _4  
To Dream_**

Kaito didn't go home. He moved in a disconnected haze, and it felt like he blinked, then he was in front of the Kudo mansion.

Usually, he'd sneak in, even with Okiya living there, but now…

Shinichi's parents were there, and… they deserved to know, and they'd probably notice him anyway. So…

He rang the doorbell, watching his hand reach out like it was someone else's.

The door opened to man who looked like his own Oyaji, except…

"Kaito-kun?" a voice only a little different than the one in vinyl records and tapes and memory.

He _knew_ this man. He hadn't seen him in years, but he remembered the man as much his father's opposite as Shinichi had been his own, and he couldn't help but take a half-step, uncertain of where he was going.

Kudo Yuusaku reached out and pulled him into an enveloping hug, "Kaito," he said, dropping any formality in favor of simple comfort. "Kaito, _thank you._ "

Kaito choked on a sound that could have been an incredulous laugh, except that it was a cracking sob, "I couldn't…"

"You were there for him more than Yukiko or I have ever been," Yuusaku murmured into his hair, arms tightening. "You were there when no one else was, and you _tried._ Gods, Kaito… as much as I _wish_ … you did more than anyone else ever could have. I know he cherished every moment he had with you, so… that you were there, at the last…"

And Kaito folded into the hug, so like his father's, and let himself break down. He'd cried—he hadn't been able to _stop_ crying—the night before, but he hadn't let himself break. He'd still had to act, but here, with Shinichi's father (who clearly knew exactly what had happened), he no longer had to hold that last bit of his Poker Face in place.

Kaito wasn't aware of it when Yuusaku picked him up like a much smaller child and carried him inside, wasn't aware when Yukiko saw him and burst into fresh tears for the heartbreak in his face, wasn't aware when Shinichi's father tucked him into Shinichi's bed and slid Shinichi's only recently-used pillow into Kaito's arms.

He cried himself to sleep, only knowing that he was safe enough to let go.

 _xxxx_

Kaito hadn't had dreams (nightmares) of his father's death in over a year, that startled cry and flash of flame followed by people screaming. Tantei-kun hadn't died in fire, but maybe it wasn't so surprising that the old nightmare mixed with a new one, because while Shinichi hadn't died by fire, holding him as he'd screamed and grown had _felt_ like fire, like standing too close to a furnace or an open flame.

Kaito knew he was dreaming (of course he was dreaming, even in sleep the memory of Tantei-kun slack in his arms was inescapable) but he didn't care that the dream was of being surrounded by fire, holding Shinichi as he gasped and panted and slowly died in his arms, because at least in the dream, Shinichi wasn't leaving him behind.

Maybe the burning house (his own, familiar home that Tantei-kun had never set foot in) would take him with it, and he could follow Shinichi into the next world without guilt, because there was no way out and if there had been, he would have had to _try._

But, no, it was only a dream. A nightmare, maybe, except that it wasn't as terrible as the one he'd faced awake. Maybe he could stay in the dream a little longer, holding a Shinichi who hadn't yet died, and follow him into the dark.

Maybe Izanami would take him, too. She had been merciful, once. Maybe she could remember a shred of that mercy.

In the end, though, he woke in an unfamiliar bed in a familiar room that wasn't his own. No, Tantei-kun's, _Shinichi's_ , tucked in by careful hands and wrapped around a pillow that smelled comfortingly of the person he knew had been stolen from him, light streaming through a crack in the curtain to fall across his face.

Kaito curled further into the pillow, burying his face in fluffy fabric.

He didn't want to face the world. Not yet. And while he couldn't deny what was (Shinichi may have been forced into a series—a _life_ —of lies, but he'd never lied to _himself_ and Kaito would honor that with his own self-honesty), he didn't think he could handle getting up and stepping out into a day where Tantei-kun was _gone_. No more chases, no more partnerships, no more smirks and close calls and terror and laughter.

He couldn't face that world yet. He needed to patch up the cracks in his soul a little before he tried to step back out into the daylight.

And he would start by making a list of what he needed to know, to carry on his Tantei-kun's mission.

(If Shinichi couldn't settle his debts with those who'd killed him, Kaito would have to do it for him.)

 _xxxx_


	5. 5 To Lift the Standard

_Standard: a symbol of a person or group; a flag. The chapter name refers to the old military position (very old) of standard-bearer. Taking up a standard after the original standard-bearer was lost was a way to rally an army, to convince them to continue to fight even though their flag had once fallen._

 _Also, I'm sad at the lack of reviews for the last chapter. Have I depressed my readers so badly...?_

 _Well, it is a depressing storyline, I suppose. One more in this mini-series, to be named 'Taking Chances'._

 ** _5  
To Lift the Standard_**

Haibara told him everything. From her own part in Shinichi's death (the guilt she felt was more than enough punishment, and she had only been trying to protect the only family she had. Kaito could understand that and Shinichi had never blamed her, so how then could Kaito?) to everything they'd managed to gather on their enemies, to what few allies they had, even those who'd only ever known 'Edogawa Conan' and his precocious intelligence.

Kaito _planned_.

And… there was one thing left, that might grant the Mouris and Conan's friends at least a little comfort, a little hope.

But he would not state falsely, not in this. So. Not—quite—a riddle, no cheerily mocking little doodle. There was nothing to mock in this.

A note with a single blue rose* taped to it was left on Mouri Kogoro's desk for him and his daughter to find come morning.

 _x_

 _I have not forgotten my favorite critic, whose all-seeing eyes were never deceived.  
I will not forget my Tantei-kun.  
Kaitou Kid_

 _x_

As for the Black… he would _destroy_ them.

 _xxxx_

 _*Blue roses stand for many things, but all of them have something to do with uniqueness or impossibility (probably due to being impossible to naturally breed, as roses lack the gene for blue pigment. Gene tampering and dye are the only ways to get them). In this case, the intended meaning is 'uniquely wonderful and unattained/impossible', with the 'impossible' part being 'impossible to forget', though the Mouris wouldn't know that just by looking up possible meanings._


End file.
